


Make Yourself Right At Home (stay as long as you need)

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 6+1 Structure, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Moira Queen Lives, Moira Queen Pov, New Arrowverse Timeline, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy Scares, Ranging across the seasons, Serious Injuries, Smoak-Queen Family Feels, Suspected Pregnancy, Trauma, struggling to get pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: the 6 times moira thought felicity was pregnant with oliver’s child and the 1 time she actually was
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 417
Kudos: 674





	1. First Suspicion (S2)

**Author's Note:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> wishing a happy birthday to the wonderful caitlin (@smoakqueenfam), who is a great and incredible friend.
> 
> this fic will update daily over the next week (if i forget to update... feel free to harass me on twitter about it lol)
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

[](https://ibb.co/GMHWS5W)

The first time Moira thinks Felicity Smoak might be pregnant with her son’s child is when Oliver brings her home to the Queen mansion for the holidays, around two weeks after Moira is released from Iron Heights.

She’s surprised and instantly suspicious when Oliver introduces Felicity as his girlfriend, as she knows that the young woman is employed as her son’s executive assistant. Her instinct as a protective mother causes her to initially worry about whether Felicity Smoak might be using Oliver to advance her career or to leach off his wealth. Then comes the much more alarming probable concern - is it possible that Oliver slept with his secretary, got her pregnant, and she is now forcing him into a relationship with her? She’s reminded with a shudder of the Samantha Clayton situation. She managed to pay that young girl off and convince her to tell Oliver that she lost the baby.

In this instance, however, Moira can’t imagine approaching Felicity and trying to bribe her to abort the baby or leave Starling; she can see that her son is utterly and completely head over heels in love with her, relying on her and trusting her. And she can see that Felicity is also in love with her son - but there’s a chance that is all an act. Moira will have to observe them as a couple and individually for longer, to make an accurate determination of how their relationship works.

She has her suspicions that Oliver is the Arrow. Prior research into Felicity means that Moira knows that she’s highly skilled with computers and in cybersecurity. She also knows that Felicity had a brush or two with the FBI over alluded hacktivist activities when she was attending MIT. Felicity would make the perfect partner for Oliver for his vigilante exploits. So it’s possible that there is a lot more history between her son and the young woman than Moira is privy to.

She can’t exactly say no when Oliver puts her on the spot and requests that Felicity stay with them over the holidays. Especially not with Walter and Thea beaming gleefully and acting so excited at the prospect of the blonde spending Christmas with them. Hanukkah has already passed, having run over the week of Thanksgiving; Oliver apparently helped Felicity celebrate it, which gets on Moira’s nerves, because it means that her son hasn’t been living in the mansion for the past few weeks… and she didn’t notice.

“It would be a delight to host you,” she says with a stiff smile aimed at the younger woman. It grinds on Moira’s nerves to see how Felicity is openly cuddling up to Oliver in front of them, as if trying to stake a claim. Or is it the other way around, with her son being possessive of his girlfriend? Oliver’s front is pressed up against Felicity’s back, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head back to rest on her collarbone. “I’ll ask Raisa to make up a guest room along the same corridor as Oliver’s room -”

“There’s no need for that, Mom,” he cuts in. There’s a dazzling grin on his face and affection shining in his eyes as he tucks a stray blonde lock of hair behind Felicity’s ear. Moira feels sick. She has never seen Oliver this happy before. She’s never seen him smile so widely since he was rescued from the island. And Felicity Smoak is the cause of it, rather than her or Thea. “Felicity will be staying with me.”

Moira freezes, but maintains her forced welcoming expression. Internally, however, she’s panicking. Her son and Felicity are sharing a _bed?_ How long have they been dating for, without her knowledge? “Of course,” she grits out. 

Later that afternoon, Moira peeks through the crack in Oliver’s bedroom door, and her heart jolts when she sees Felicity lying curled up on her son’s bed with a book in one hand, and the other rubbing over her lower abdomen while Oliver sits beside her. His laptop is propped on his lap and he’s flicking through and reading something on the screen rather than typing; his spare hand is playing with the ends of his girlfriend’s hair fondly. He looks incredibly relaxed and calm; there’s not a hint of the quiet tense man who returned from half a decade on a deserted island last year.

Turning away, Moira leans against the wall heavily, biting one of the knuckles of her clenched fist. _That_ seems like pretty solid evidence to her - Felicity’s hand touching her stomach in that particular way.

Oh god, what is she going to do? If it gets out that Oliver knocked up his executive assistant, who he is privately dating, then the media will treat it as a scandal and the attention will be insane. That could jeopardize his CEO position at QC and also his identity as the Arrow. Lost in thought, Moira heads back downstairs. A glass of brandy is poured and she spends the next couple of hours spiraling over what to do and what to say, and whether or not she should confront her son about his relationship with Felicity. She knows that Walter and Thea are very fond of the young woman, so there is no way she will be able to convince them of Felicity being a disruptive presence in Oliver’s life.

In all honesty, Moira isn’t even able to convince _herself_ of that. Contentment is not something she often sees on her son’s face, but she can see it when he’s around Felicity. All she’s ever wanted for her beautiful boy is for him to be safe and happy. If Felicity works with Oliver when he’s the Arrow, then she is helping to keep him safe, and by keeping him safe and alive, and being by his side and supporting him, she is making sure he has the chance to be happy. Shouldn’t Moira, as Oliver’s mother, be pleased then that Felicity is so heavily involved with him? Shouldn’t she be relieved that her son has somebody like her in his life? But the idea of a possible baby being born to and raised by the pair, when their lives are so dangerous due to their vigilantism, is a worrying one.

Half an hour later, Moira has moved on from brandy to coffee in the kitchen, seated at the mahogany table while lost in thought, when Oliver and Felicity walk in. They’re utterly engrossed in their own conversation, which seems to be focused on teasing Oliver about his dislike for avocado.

“Sorry, Mom, didn’t see you there,” Oliver says brightly, when he finally notices her. “We didn’t mean to bother you.”

Moira keeps her expression blank, despite the shock that ripples through her hearing him say that. The son she’s known for the last year and a half is constantly alert and observant due to his PTSD making him hypervigilant. To think that there are times where he’s so absorbed by Felicity that he relaxes enough to lower his guard… that’s nothing short of a miracle.

“No bother,” she responds. She flicks her gaze between the two of them, noting how they are casually holding hands and leaning into each other’s bodies. “Is everything all right?”

Oliver bites his lip nervously and glances at Felicity, which triggers Moira to turn her attention on the younger woman. Her heart is thudding in her chest; are they about to confess to her that she’s pregnant? A faint blush coloring her cheeks, Felicity instead admits, “I’m, er, having some pretty bad period cramps and was wondering if you had any Advil.”

Oh. _Oh._ Moira is reeling, and hopes it doesn’t show on her face. So… Felicity is not pregnant. She doesn’t know quite what to feel. “Of course, dear, there’s a medication box and first aid kit in the cabinet above the stand mixer.”

Felicity thanks her and stretches up on her tiptoes to reach the cupboard, dragging the box out and beginning to rifle through it for the painkillers. As she does so, Oliver grabs crackers from the pantry for his girlfriend to eat before the pills, and pours her a glass of water. Some wild sort of silent communication occurs between them for a good half a minute; Moira watches on in awe as Oliver manages to convince a reluctant Felicity to eat a few of the crackers.

“Mom, do we still have that case of Chateau Lafite Rothschild 1982 in the cellar?” he asks curiously.

Shooting him a scolding look, Felicity warns softly, “Oliver…” before swallowing the Advil down using the water he passes to her.

“I believe we do,” Moira replies, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

“I owe Felicity a bottle from a tech-related favor she performed for me last year,” he explains, grinning shushing Felicity when she drops her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I was wondering if we could pull out one for dinner tonight.”

 _Definitely_ not pregnant, then, if they’re planning on drinking alcohol. Not just alcohol - a $25,000 bottle of premium red wine.

“It must have been a large favor,” she says warily.

Oliver doesn’t waver. “A massive one,” he replies back, his voice steady. “Life-saving.”

Life-saving. Moira reckons he means that literally, rather than metaphorically, given their… night-time hobbies. “I’ll fetch the keys from my office and bring them to dinner, so you can pick a bottle before we eat.”

The smile her son gifts her with is warm and genuine. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs Queen,” Felicity echoes graciously, patting Oliver’s chest. It’s a comfortable, natural gesture that her son appears to be used to.

There’s a brief silent pause for a moment before Oliver’s cell phone begins to chirp loudly. Oliver fishes it out and grimaces. “Urgh, sorry, I’ve got to take this. It’s Tommy. Probably calling me to complain about Thea’s terrible taste for gin for Verdant, _again_. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He brushes an affectionate, lingering kiss against the side of Felicity’s head before making his hasty exit from the kitchen.

“He’s not wrong though,” Felicity calls after him. “That last massive batch of gin she ordered in tasted like dish soap when you added mixers to it, and ended up being wasted.” She turns to Moira and lowers her eyes, shifting in embarrassment as her cheeks redden. Suddenly, she feels a burst of fondness towards the blonde. “I’m sorry, Mrs Queen.”

She cocks her head. “What for?”

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about your daughter’s bad taste in gin, of all things.”

“Moira, please,” she responds with a smile. It’s not forced, although it is tentative. “And it’s all right, Felicity. My daughter may only be eighteen years old, but she is the responsible co-business owner of a bar and nightclub. Thea talks to me about a lot more than gin to my face.”

Come and sit down with me, Felicity, while we wait for Oliver to return. We should talk. We’ve never really spoken outside of QC related things, and I barely know anything about you personally. If you’re dating Oliver, when you’re a part of our family, so I’d like to rectify that.”

Felicity nods, sliding into the chair opposite Moira, sporting a tremulous but authentic grin. “I’d really like that.”

Well, if Felicity is here to stay and is going to remain in Oliver’s life for the foreseeable future, which Moira is certain is the case… this is the perfect opportunity to start getting to know her. In the end, the two of them converse and swap stories about Oliver for nearly an hour over coffees, before he comes back.

(Felicity isn’t pregnant, she’s confirmed that now. Moira is silently relieved.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: Pregnancy Scare (S3)**


	2. Pregnancy Scare (S3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> wow guys, thank you so much for the amazingly positive response to the first part! i'm so happy that so many of you are as invested in moira and felicity's relationship as much as i am! hope you enjoy this chapter x
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

A little over a month since her son ventured off to confront Ra’s Al Ghul and fight him to protect Thea from a blood debt the Merlyns owe, and two days after Malcolm Merlyn returned only to drop a bloody sword on the floor and pronounce Oliver dead... Moira is drowning in devastation, unable to process everything. She’s just lost her son for the second time.

There’s a tiny, desperate voice screaming at the back of her head that refuses to believe that Oliver is dead until she sees a body, that he survived the Gambit and could survive this as well; the rest of her hope has been crushed, though, by the blood’s DNA test confirming it was her son the sword was stabbed into.

Now she’s just alone in the Queen mansion, pacing the dark halls feeling like her head is about to explode and her heart is withering and dying away. Thea has long since moved out into her own loft apartment. She’s staying with Tommy and Roy, and texted Moira yesterday night saying that she needs some space for now. Moira hasn’t seen anybody from Team Arrow since that terrible day in the foundry when Malcolm came with the sword. Truthfully, she’s too mentally and emotionally exhausted to consider even leaving the house.

Felicity hasn’t responded to any of her texts or calls - she’s in denial, Moira suspects. She can’t even begin to imagine how utterly heartbroken the younger woman must be; Oliver attempted to propose to her before he left to fight Ra’s, but Felicity told him she didn’t want him to propose ‘just in case’, telling him instead that she would give him her response when he returned home to her. But Oliver isn’t coming home.

If she had the energy, Moira would be angry at her. She knows that Thea and Tommy are, Roy and Laurel as well. But she isn’t. Because Felicity is just as wrecked as her, perhaps even more so, and their fury is misplaced. She had every belief that Oliver was going to come back and didn’t want to get engaged to Oliver lest she jinx their happiness; the people they should all be enraged at are Ra’s Al Ghul, for killing him, and Malcolm Merlyn, for forcing Oliver into fighting him.

Moira knows that the younger woman will not stop believing there is a chance the archer is alive until she has solid evidence (that did not come from Malcolm Merlyn) that proves that he was killed. If the last year of knowing her has taught Moira anything, Felicity is determined and stubborn, and fierce in her love of Oliver. She believes in him infinitely. Moira also knows that there’s a possibility Felicity will never find the evidence she wants. That bloodstained sword is all they have at the moment, but it might be all they will ever have to give them answers as to what happened to her son.

Moira is standing silently by the patio doors, a brandy glass in her shaking hand as she stares out over the gardens bathed in pale moonlight, when the doorbell rings. And again. And again, and again, and again, until it’s being frantically and repeatedly pressed every second. Confused at who could be calling at such late an hour - and her heart pounding as hope flares in her chest and she thinks, _could it be Oliver?_ \- Moira places her glass down and hesitantly approaches the front doors, peering through the peephole. 

Her heart stops. She quickly opens the doors, bewilderment, and concern sweeping through her. “Felicity?”

Felicity stands on the porch, shaking all over and tears streaming down her ashen face. It’s an incredibly alarming sight. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes out. “I - I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but - my period is two weeks late and I think I might be p-pregnant.”

Moira’s eyes widen in astonishment. Oh god. “Felicity -”

“- Please, I - I don’t wanna take the tests alone,” she continues to beg. “Thea and Laurel won’t talk to me and Lyla’s abroad… _please_ , can I -”

“Come in,” Moira interrupts her firmly. She can see that Felicity in on the verge of breaking down on her. Over the past year, she and Felicity have become incredibly close, to the point of her seeing her as her daughter-in-law. Yes, she didn’t say yes to Oliver’s proposal last month, but Moira would _never_ turn her away. Especially not if Felicity suspects she might be pregnant.

“Are you sure?” she replies, a tremor in her voice.

“Don’t be silly, dear girl, of course I’m sure,” Moira says soothingly, cupping her cheeks gently. She then takes Felicity’s hand to lead her inside, tutting when she feels how her skin is freezing to the touch. She’s been standing outside the door for a while, most likely, debating whether or not she should ring the doorbell. “We’ll get you some jasmine tea, and then once you’re feeling better, you’ll take the tests and we’ll sit and wait for the results together. How does that sound?”

Sniffling, Felicity throws her arms around Moira’s neck in a hug, much to the older woman’s surprise. She embraces her back, brushing her hand up and down her spine as the blonde sobs into her shoulder. “ _Thank you._ Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

After getting Felicity settled in the living room, Moira prepares a china tea tray with a teapot full of steeping jasmine loose-leaf tea in the kitchen in a daze. She’s stunned, yes, and crushed by the idea of Felicity finding out she’s pregnant with Oliver’s child after his traumatic death, but there’s also a scrap of excitement making her breathing stutter. If Felicity is pregnant with Oliver’s baby, then they’ll be a tiny part of him that they will get to cherish and love. Yes, it will be terrible that the child will grow up without their father, but a precious life being born of his blood will mean that they never truly lost him.

Felicity appears a lot calmer than before when Moira returns to her side to pour her a cup of tea, carefully easing it into her cold hands. “Tell me everything you suspect and know so far,” she prompts softly.

Exhaling with a shudder, Felicity hunches her shoulders as she sips at the tea carefully. “Um, my period is thirteen days late. I… I’ve been thinking it could be due to stress at first but then this morning I felt nauseous. I remembered that I haven’t been on birth control since October because I didn’t have the time to book the physical I need before they renew my annual prescription. Oliver and I were relying on condoms. And there’s… there’s a chance a condom broke one time. I don’t _know_ if I’m pregnant but there’s a chance I could be.” She’s red in the face by the time she finishes.

“Are your cycles regular, 28 days?” Moira asks calmly. Felicity nods. She does the mental math in her head and aloud. “13 days late, 28 days in your cycle, that’s 41 days since your last period. If you’re pregnant, you’re 5 weeks, nearly 6. The pregnancy tests should be accurate. How many did you bring with you?”

“Four. All of them different brands. I - I didn’t want to risk any false positives or negatives.”

“Are you ready to take them?”

Felicity nods again, albeit more hesitantly this time. “Yeah. I think it would be better to get them over and done with.”

Not wanting to put Felicity through the pressure of trying to pee on all of the pregnancy tests, Moira finds a disposable plastic cup and directs her into the luxurious downstairs guest bathroom. She looks a bit lost and confounded, obviously still in shock that this is happening to her, so Moira orders her to pee in the cup, dip all of the tests in and then lay them out on the sink before returning to the living room for the three-minute wait, so she doesn’t have to be by herself. Felicity looks relieved that she’s being told what to do, rather than having to worry about it herself. Waiting outside the bathroom patiently for Felicity to do the deed is torture. 

Felicity is shivering all over when she emerges from the bathroom, her eyes distant and haunted. Moira suspects why; if Felicity ever imagined taking pregnancy tests, she would have always imagined Oliver being by her side.

Urging her to drink more jasmine tea to soothe her nerves, Moira guides her back onto the couch and sits beside her, rubbing her back. The blonde twitches anxiously. Constantly casting looks over to the doorway, Felicity is itching to head back to the bathroom and look at the test results as soon as possible.

“Why don’t you hate me?” she asks suddenly.

Moira’s brow furrows. “Why would I hate you?”

Felicity wraps her arms around herself protectively. “I didn’t answer Oliver’s proposal. Everybody else has told me to my face they think I was cruel and horrible to decline.”

“I don’t hate you because I think I would have done the same in your situation,” Moira admits. “An engagement shouldn’t be overshadowed by the fact that one of the people in the relationship is about to trek off into the Himalayas to fight a megalomaniac who is the leader of a cult of assassins. That shouldn’t be the _reason_ for the engagement. You didn’t say ‘no’. You said ‘not now’. It would have given Oliver even more determination to survive and return to us, so he could propose again properly.”

“Moira, what am I gonna do if I am pregnant?” Tearing up again, Felicity’s chest heaves with a sob. “Oliver’s - _not here_ , and I can’t do this alone.”

Taking the cup from her and placing it back down on the tray, Moira grasps Felicity’s hands securely between her own, squeezing them reassuringly. She leans sideways so the younger woman is forced to meet her eyes. Her breath catches; they’re beautifully blue, just like her son’s. “You are _not_ alone,” Moira tells her firmly. “You have _me_. And Mr Diggle, and Ms Michaels, and I’m sure Thea, Tommy, Laurel, and Roy as well, when they come around and realize their behavior towards you is odious and Oliver would never stand for it. You are going to be so supported and your baby is going to be so _loved_. If you are pregnant, then the baby won’t be an accident, they’ll be our little miracle.” She closes her eyes, swallowing. “I know that with… Oliver not being here, you have to be overwhelmed and scared of what the tests say. But I’m here for you. Every step of the way.”

Felicity’s phone beeps. The timer is up. Although Felicity is clearly struggling not to sprint to the bathroom, Moira holds her hand and urges her to walk at a leisurely pace. Once they reach the half-open bathroom door, however, Felicity freezes, tensing up. She can’t seem to bring herself to enter, despite her impatience before.

“Do you want me to go in and check them first?” Moira asks quietly.

“Yes, please,” she murmurs. “Can you - can you tell me whether they’re positive or negative, as well? I don’t think I’ll be able to make myself look at them without throwing up.”

Moira steels herself and steps inside the bathroom; she glances down at the tests on the sink. She sighs. “Felicity?” she calls.

“Yes?” she responds nervously.

“They’re negative.”

In less than a second, Felicity is shoving her way into the bathroom too. The expression on her face is a mixture of surprise and dismay. “All of them!?”

Moira backs away to allow her to stand directly in front of the sink, staring down at the tests. All of them are negative. Felicity isn’t pregnant. Moira can’t help but feel a little sad. Yes, it was only a _possibility_ , but she already started thinking about a beautiful bouncing blonde blue-eyed grandchild. As the information that she’s not pregnant sinks in for the blonde, she looks even more depressed.

“Are you okay?” Moira asks softly.

Felicity gives a small nod. “Yeah.”

Moira rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right to be disappointed.”

“I - I’m not,” Felicity lies. “This is for the better, you know? There’s no baby that has to grow up without their father.” Moira tightens her hand in worry. She can hear the infection in her voice, the hoarseness that accompanies dejection. “I’m fine.” Plastering a fake smile on her face, Felicity gathers the negative tests and throws them one by one into the trash. Washing her hands, she turns to Moira and adds, while refusing to meet her gaze directly, “Thank you, for letting me take the tests here with you.”

Moira doesn’t honestly know what to say. She can see that Felicity is slamming up her emotional shields to try and protect herself from heartbreak, but she doesn’t know what to do. Felicity won’t admit that she’s disappointed and therefore won’t accept her comfort. She heads home that night alone, having declined an offer to stay at the mansion.

(Felicity is not, in fact, pregnant, and is just stressed. Her son is presumed dead. Moira is tired.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: Broken Hearts (S4)**


	3. Broken Hearts (S4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> thank you all for your continued support!!! i would recommend you have tissues on hand for this part
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

The day of Oliver and Felicity’s public wedding is meant to be a day of wonder and jubilation. In the late of night, after their reception, it transforms into a day of tragedy.

Moira is on her way home, elated after spending the afternoon and evening with friends and family celebrating the union between her son and Felicity Smoak, who is now officially her daughter-in-law, when she gets the overwrought call from Oliver that he and Felicity were attacked. He is unharmed, simply shaken. Felicity, on the other hand, is in critical condition in Starling General. She’s been struck by multiple bullets in her lower back. Moira is utterly horrified.

Her relationship with Oliver and Felicity has been rather turbulent lately since they discovered that she paid off Samantha Clayton to move and hide the existence of her and Oliver’s son, William, from him before the Gambit’s sinking. She was invited to the wedding purely out of courtesy. But when Oliver pleads for her to come to the hospital, Moira agrees in a heartbeat. There is no other choice to make; her daughter-in-law’s life is in the hands of surgeons and nurses, and there’s a chance she might not make it. Over the past two years, she’s become ferociously fond and protective of Felicity. She orders her driver to turn the car around and drive as quickly as possible to Starling General, telling him she doesn’t care what traffic and speeding laws he breaks along the way.

Dr Lamb is waiting for her in the ER entrance when she finally arrives. Civilians and medical staff alike stare as they see the Mayor of Starling City rush in. Dr Schwartz, who has been personally working with Oliver, Felicity, and the other Team Arrow members over the past year, is monitoring the operation her daughter-in-law is currently being put through to save her life. She and Oliver were in a limo being driven home to the loft after the reception, when they were apparently surrounded by Damien Darhk’s Ghosts; the thugs fired dozens of automatic rounds at the vehicle, killing the driver.

Oliver somehow escaped with only glass cuts on his hands, despite the fact that he was attempting to shield Felicity with his body. Felicity took four bullets. They have the private Queen suite fully set up for intensive care in preparation for when Felicity’s surgery is over, but they don’t expect it to end for another couple of hours. Dr Lamb informs her that Felicity still has the bullets lodged in her back and spine, in very delicate areas, which will take experienced surgeon’s hands and robots to remove.

Her son is sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall with his legs stretched out, opposite the door of the OR. He’s still dressed in his slim, smart reception tux, although his bowtie is loose around his neck. His white shirt is stained crimson with his wife’s blood. The same blood is dried on his hands, with flecks on his face as well.

Moira’s heart _shatters_. Oliver looks broken. Utterly exhausted, he looks like he’s been mentally destroyed by a battle, his expression disorientated and anguished. Instead of shaking, he’s completely still, like a statue. As if he can’t even figure out how to move. Even his shallow breathing is labored, as if it’s taking conscious effort. 

Moira kneels slowly in front of him. She doesn’t want to startle him, in case he lashes out violently at her. “Oliver?” she asks quietly.

He looks up at her, his expression shuttering into a chillingly blank one. “Mom? What are you doing here?”

Her throat tightens. “Sweetheart, you called me and asked me to come,” she reminds him softly.

“... I did?” Oliver blinks, lost. “Oh. I… I can’t remember…” He trails off, with a distant expression.

He’s in shock, not processing things correctly. Moira would be lying if she said she wasn’t disturbed by how he appeared a million miles away, with the same look on his face that he sometimes gets when trapped in a flashback. “Dr Lamb says that Felicity isn’t coming out of surgery for a while,” she says, cautiously laying her hand on his arm. He doesn’t flinch, thank god. “Why don’t we go to a bathroom and get you cleaned up?”

“No,” Oliver replies sluggishly, after half a minute of silence. “I have to call Donna. She went home with Quentin after the reception.”

“I’ll do that, sweetheart,” she reassures, licking her thumb and using it to wipe the dried blood off his cheek. It makes her feel sick, to have Felicity’s blood on her hands; she can’t imagine how Oliver is feeling, with it covering him. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?”

Oliver stares down vacantly at the blood. There’s a spark of faint recognition as he realizes that it’s his wife’s. Her son stands suddenly. Out of nowhere, there’s an enraged fire burning in his cobalt eyes, and he’s clenching his blood-soaked hands into fists. “Stay here with Felicity,” he orders roughly, and then, to Moira’s astonishment, storms off down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” she shouts after him.

Oliver wheels around. She flinches at the primal fury on his face. Her son is a weapon and has killed in the past, and having him face her in all of his ferocity is terrifying. “To get justice for her,” he snarls.

“What does that even _mean!?_ ”

“It means that Damien Darhk is going to fucking die for hurting my wife!”

And then he _leaves_. Moira is speechless. So her son is planning to - what? Track down Damian Darhk and kill him, for hurting Felicity, instead of remaining in the hospital to continue getting updates from doctors about her condition and survival through surgery? On one hand, she can try and see it through Oliver’s eyes. He probably wants to take Darhk and the Ghosts off the board before he sees Felicity again, so he can reassure her that the men who harmed her are off the streets. There’s a chance he could pick up a lead from the limo crash site and narrow down on Darhk’s base, but that lead could vanish very quickly. She understands his need for pay-back. Moira would kill Darhk without a second's hesitance, if she had the chance. But on the other hand… Oliver is leaving his wife in hospital for _vengeance_ of all things, when he should be staying here and supporting her. Yes, he would be helpless pacing these halls, letting the medical professionals work to save her, but he would be _here_.

Before Moira loses her head, she forces herself to call Quentin and inform him of what’s happened. He’s horrified and tells her he’ll break the news to Donna and then drive her over as soon as he can. It’s as Moira is ending the call that Dr Schwartz emerges from the OR in full scrubs. She converses tersely with Dr Lamb for a moment before approaching Moira.

“Hello, Mayor Queen,” she greets her. “Do you know where Mr Queen is? I have updates for him on his wife’s medical condition.”

“He’s gone outside to coordinate with the police, in efforts to pursue their attackers. I suspect he might not be back for a while,” Moira lies. “What are the updates?”

Dr Schwartz looks confused, but a sharp look from Dr Lamb and she’s sighing, giving in. “In the simplest of medical terms, we were able to treat Mrs Smoak-Queen’s hypotension, blood loss, and halt most of her internal bleeding, which were the most pressing issues. She was extremely fortunate in that the bullets did not rupture any of her vital organs, although there was damage to her large intestine which we have treated the best we could. Three out of the four bullets have been removed. The last is in a difficult location. It’s lodged between her L2 and L3 vertebrae. Because of that, our orthopedic surgeon is concerned there is spinal cord damage. We are waiting for a specialist spinal neurosurgeon to fly in from Chicago to try and remove it, and he will arrive here under police escort in approximately an hour. At the moment, she’s stable.”

Moira feels like a bucket of freezing water has been thrown over her. All of that information is incredibly hard to absorb and digest, but there is something that sticks out to her. “Are you saying there is a chance that Felicity could be paralyzed?”

Dr Schwartz doesn’t blink. “We aren’t certain yet, but yes, that is a possibility. I’m very sorry, Mayor Queen. Unfortunately, all we can do is wait for the specialist neurosurgeon to arrive and make his diagnosis. I would ask Mr Queen for this information if he were here, but as he’s not and it’s rather urgent, I’ll ask you instead. We need to know if Mrs Smoak-Queen is currently taking any medication that is not on file and if there is a possibility she could be pregnant.”

Moira’s heart drops like a stone in her chest. 

Because yes. There is a chance that Felicity could be pregnant. In fact, Moira is pretty certain she is. Over the last couple of days leading up to the wedding, Felicity has complained of ‘stress’ headaches, feeling sick ‘with anxiety’, needing to pee constantly ‘because of nerves’, and sore breasts ‘because of the wedding dress’ corset’. She’s been wearing out quickly and feeling tired all the time, and craving chocolate. In retrospect, Moira feels stupid that she didn’t see it sooner. All of those things aren’t because of stress and anxiety - they’re first trimester pregnancy symptoms.

Oh god, if Felicity is pregnant and she’s just been shot in the back with four bullets…

“No medication, but yes, she could be pregnant,” Moira croaks, trying not to cry. “She’s - I just realized she’s been having symptoms over the last week.”

Dr Schwartz’s expression turns grim. “Thank you.” She wheels around and stalks off at a rapid pace to re-enter the OR. Just before she does, she pauses and turns back to Moira, saying morosely, “You should call Mr Queen back here, if you can.”

Moira calls him. He doesn’t pick up. She calls again and again, leaving voicemail after voicemail, begging Oliver to come back to the hospital, that he’s needed her. After around half an hour, the frustration has built up enough for her to snap down the one that he’s being selfish, and focusing on vengeance is not going to emotionally support his wife, who could potentially be paralyzed. She says nothing about the possible pregnancy.

Donna arrives with Quentin shortly after. She’s a mess, which is understandable, and Dr Lamb takes her aside and sits her down with a box of tissues to explain everything. Moira doesn’t want to interrupt, especially as Donna seems so emotional, so she instead impatiently paces up and down the corridor, waiting for more news of her daughter-in-law. It’s nearly 1am now, and Moira can’t bring herself to call Thea, Tommy, Diggle and the others yet, until Felicity is out of surgery. Only hours ago, they were partying and drinking and celebrating a wonderful wedding… now everything is imploding around them.

Finally, _finally_ , an hour later, Oliver returns. He’s in clean civilian clothes but his face is pale, his eyes bloodshot. He walks straight up to Donna and hugs her desperately. The two of them cry together, Quentin standing to the side with his hand on Donna’s back, head turned away in respect. When Oliver finally draws himself away, he closes his eyes and bows his head as Donna cups his cheeks and kisses his forehead. He looks like a child who has lost his way. _Her_ child. He glances over at her, fatigued and _drained_ by guilt. He feels bad for leaving. Moira tries to reassure him with a wobbly, faint smile; at least he’s here now.

Dr Schwartz steps out of the OR once again. If possible, she looks even more haggard than before. She immediately makes a beeline for Oliver when she spots him. Taking his arm by the elbow, she leads him away from the rest of them to the other end of the corridor so that they can talk in private. Moira watches in concern, keeping her eyes fixed on her son’s face. At first, Oliver looks worried, then shocked and then… utter despair washes over him. He begins to tremble as Dr Schwartz calmly and quietly continues. When she finishes, she places her hand on his arm in a universal gesture of offering comfort before moving away to talk to Dr Lamb.

Moira walks up to Oliver cautiously. He’s staring down at the floor with a splintered, despondent expression. “Oliver? Is Felicity okay?”

“She’s stable. They have the specialist neurosurgeon working on her now. They - they think she’s probably been paralyzed from the waist down because her spinal cord has been so badly damaged,” he replies, his voice breaking.

Moira can tell he’s holding something back. “Oliver… what else?”

“One - one of the bullets ricocheted off her pelvis into her uterus.” Stricken with grief, her son collapses into her arms with a guttural sob. “She lost the baby. Their heart was still beating when they started the surgery to recover the bullet fragment, but the surgeons couldn’t save them.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, tears springing into her eyes. She suspected, of course, but she never imagined... She clutches him to her chest as he starts to weep, falling to pieces. “I’m so sorry.”

“We didn’t even know she was pregnant. She was only six weeks,” Oliver croaks into her shoulder, voice muffled by her shirt and by his own crying. “Why does the universe hate us, Mom? Why is it always so unfair? How am I meant to tell her?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I don’t know.” And she truly doesn’t. That’s the most awful thing.

“I hate this. I hate everything. Why can’t Felicity and I ever just be _happy?_ ” His knees give out, and he slides to the floor, his weight too much for Moira to carry. She hugs him as securely as she can, eyes closed and crying herself as Oliver openly weeps.

(Felicity isn’t pregnant. Not anymore. She didn’t even know. None of them did. Moira is heartbroken.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: Hopeful Observations (S5)**


	4. Hopeful Observations (S5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> thank you guys. last chapter was a difficult one to write and i really, really appreciate everything you said, especially those of you who said you connected with it emotionally and it moved you. you're the best audience. a little lighter chapter today x enjoy!
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

_Olicity Baby Watch 2k17_ may be overzealous, but for Moira and her accomplices, Thea and Tommy, it’s an incredible amount of fun. After stepping down as mayor last year, and Oliver being elected in her place, Moira has focused on spending more time with her family.

There is a shadow hanging over them in the form of the knowledge that Oliver’s son William was taken by his mother into hiding last year after an attack by Damien Darhk, only a couple of months after the limo gun attack that left Felicity paralyzed and made her suffer a miscarriage. Oliver and Felicity are on a long path of recovery.

An implantable neuro-biostimulant microchip, the first of its design and invented by Curtis Holt and Felicity, is in the works. The only downside is that it won’t be finished and ready for a phase one trial for another couple of months. Although Oliver and Felicity were on rocky ground for a little while after William’s kidnapping, they agreed they’re stronger together after Laurel’s death. Marriage is about strength and unity, after all, and the two of them are some of the strongest people Moira knows.

Since Darhk’s defeat, her son and daughter-in-law have been training new recruits for Team Arrow, one of them being a seventeen-year-old girl called Evelyn, who they have become guardians of. Whether they realize it or not… they’re _nesting_ , that’s the only word for it. Moira can see that the two of them are _enjoying_ being the surrogate parents to Evelyn and their recruits.

Moira has no doubt that if they were able to have part-time custody of William, as they were attempting to arrange before the boy went into hiding with his mom, they could have been excellent parents to him.

Tommy and Thea see exactly the same thing she does. It was Thea who excitedly sprinted in just as they were setting up for dinner one day to say that she overheard the couple talking about kids in Oliver’s mayoral office. The two of them haven’t, to their knowledge, had a proper conversation about children since the miscarriage and William’s kidnapping.

And thus, _Olicity Baby Watch 2k17_ was born.

“Felicity hasn’t shown any pregnancy symptoms over the last week,” Thea reports as the three of them enjoy brunch together in a little boutique cafe downtown. “That _I_ know of, anyway. I obviously see her when she comes to City Hall and sometimes in the evenings when I go down to the bunker to support on comms if they need help, but I don’t see her all the time. It’s Curtis we really need on our side. He works with her during the day helping her set up Smoak Tech.”

“Same on my end,” Tommy sighs. He’s tearing a white breakfast roll apart with his fingers, which are now calloused and rough because of how he’s joined the team on the streets as the Black Archer. “And Ollie’s as tight as a clamshell when it comes to divulging info about their sex life, even after he’s had a couple of vodkas and whiskeys. They’re definitely not _actively_ trying to conceive, that’s for sure.” He pauses, wrinkling his nose. “I can’t believe I’m so devoted to trying to get my best friend to have a baby.”

“We want a pack of nieces and nephews,” Thea reminds him. “We’ve got to pull out all the stops.”

“It might be that they’re just not ready to start trying for a baby yet,” Moira shrugs casually. She’s by no means the most laid back about this - she’s pretty certain at this point she knows Felicity’s menstrual cycle schedule better than her own - but she knows that things will fall into place when the fates decide so. “Although… I did notice that Felicity has started taking multivitamin pills lately.”

Both Thea and Tommy whip around to face her, looking excited. “Prenatal vitamins?”

“No,” Moira shakes her head. The two of them sigh in disappointment, and she has to chuckle. “Patience is going to be the key here.”

She would have gone mad by now if she didn’t have patience. As far as she’s concerned, Moira is the only person who knows about Felicity’s pregnancy scare back when Oliver was thrown off the cliff by Ra’s and missing from the city. She’s not actually sure whether or not Tommy and Thea know about the miscarriage last year; Donna knows, and the two of them have talked about it before in the capacity of the two of them being women who had suffered miscarriages before and wanting to emotionally support Felicity - but she’s never said anything about it to anybody, out of respect for her son and daughter-in-law. She’s not certain that they’ve told anybody either.

She knows that Oliver and Felicity will want a baby in the future, even if they don’t now. The Diggles’ have two wonderful twins, Sara and JJ, who Oliver and Felicity are godparents to, and the Smoak-Queens adore them both. They’re always offering to babysit and take them on days out. Whenever Oliver is carrying or playing with one of his god-children, he gets this expression of awe and longing on his face; Moira has caught him shooting Felicity many a yearning look, as if he’s trying to picture what their own future children could look like. William is only a little boy and he looks amazingly similar to his father, when Oliver was young. She can imagine Oliver and Felicity’s future children having startlingly similar appearances to their parents.

The next day after brunch with Tommy and Thea, Moira is invited around to Felicity and Oliver’s new apartment for dinner. The Loft has been transformed into Smoak Tech HQ, as office space in the city is extremely expensive these days; their new place has four bedrooms instead of just two and is situated in a better location, between the bunker and City Hall. They required the extra bedrooms anyway, as Evelyn is living with them now. The girl is currently holed up in her bedroom studying.

Oliver is cooking chicken parmigiana in the large, modern kitchen while Felicity and Moira enjoy drinks in the living room. The apartment isn’t as open-plan as the Loft, and is all on one floor, but it’s still more than enough space for Oliver and Felicity, and better for Felicity since it’s more accessible for her wheelchair.

“Cranberry and lemonade, instead of wine,” Moira smirks, raising her eyebrows at the blonde. “Is there something you want to tell me, Felicity?”

The younger woman rolls her eyes. Over her shoulder, she calls back to Oliver, “Do you wanna tell your mom why I’m not drinking wine tonight, hun?”

Oliver’s head pops up over the kitchen counter, from where he’s been monitoring garlic bread in the oven. “Felicity’s got a medical check-up tomorrow and Dr Schwartz told her she can’t drink at least 24 hours in advance of it.”

Oh. Moira deflates.

“I’m not pregnant, Moira,” Felicity says with a wry smile. “I’ve been on birth control since the miscarriage. You can tell Thea and Tommy to stop spying on me trying to figure out if I’m having symptoms.”

“Wait, is _that_ why Tommy keeps asking me about our sex life?” Oliver asks in disbelief.

“It’s why he keeps monitoring the pad and tampon usage in the bunker as well,” Felicity snorts.

Moira raises a single finger. “Okay, I want it established that I didn’t know about that. That I agree is going slightly too far.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how those herbal and fruit teas you gave me for Hanukkah are sold as pro-fertility teas,” Felicity replies, with a pointed look.

“Gross.” The three adults turn to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, in contrasting pajama bottoms and a smart black sequinned top. “The teas, I mean. The teas were gross. There was one that was made from nettles. It tasted so bitter.”

“Evelyn, go and put some proper pants on, please,” Oliver says sternly, slipping into his parental role instantly. “You shouldn’t be wearing pajama pants when we have guests around for dinner.”

Evelyn looks confused. “But it’s Moira. And once we’re sitting at the table, she’s not gonna see anything but my shirt, so why does it matter what pants I wear?”

Oliver seems lost for words in response to that. Because Evelyn has a point, and he knows it. Moira laughs. “Good for you, for keeping him on his toes, Evelyn,” she praises the teenager, who winks at her playfully. “You’ve been studying hard all evening so I think we can excuse the pajamas for tonight, don’t you agree, Oliver?”

Oliver sighs tiredly and glances over at his wife. He’s so whipped. Moira enjoyed seeing it.

Felicity snickers. “I think we can allow it, hun. And Moira, not _all_ the teas were gross. The red raspberry leaf, peppermint, and ginger ones were actually very nice. But you can cancel the baby watch. There’s no point in it now. And when Oliver and I do start trying for a baby, we’re not exactly going to be shouting it from the rooftops.”

“You said ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

“Mom,” Oliver scolds her, pulling the ceramic dish full of bubbling sauce, cheese, and crispy chicken to start dishing portions out over steaming fresh pasta. “Stop.”

“You haven’t ever told me if you actually want children.”

“We have two,” Oliver responds with a frown, shifting defensively. “Evelyn and William. William might be in hiding but that doesn’t make him not our child.”

“I’m not trying to imply that Evelyn and William aren’t. You know I don’t mean it like that.”

He sets the plates down and braces his hands on the counter, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “Look, I know you want more grandkids, and you want us to have a baby, but last year wasn’t great for us, you know that. Yes, it’s been a year, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we are still dealing with the pain and stress of it today. I need you, and Tommy, and Thea, to respect that, and respect that we need our space where that is concerned, okay?”

Moira wilts at the hint of desperation in his tone. Guilt stabs at her heart. Has their eagerness for Oliver and Felicity to have a baby been harming their mental health without them realizing it? Because they’ve unknowingly stirring up distressing memories of the miscarriage for them? That’s never been their intention - but if that has been the result of their actions, they have to take responsibility for that, recognize the pain they’ve caused, and actively change their behavior.

“I’m sorry if we hurt you,” she says sincerely, slowly moving her eyes from her son to Felicity, who is now peering down at her lap looking small. She reaches out and grasps her daughter-in-law’s hand. “I’ll talk to the others. We’ll respect your space from now on.”

Oliver nods, still appearing solemn. “I can deal with Tommy prying about our sex life, but if you could get them to back off Felicity in particular, I would appreciate that. She doesn’t need to be constantly reminded of what happened and what we don’t have yet.”

“Of course,” Moira replies softly. Thinking about it properly now, she can’t imagine how awful it must have been for Felicity, to know that everybody is wanting her to have a baby when she lost hers in a traumatic attack thirteen months ago. It was entirely inappropriate. If Moira had been in Felicity’s position, she absolutely would have snapped by now. Focusing her attention on the younger woman, she tightens her grasp on her hand. “We’ve been insensitive, and I apologize if we’ve made you feel pressured or uncomfortable because of what we’ve said or done.”

Felicity gives a small nod of her head, swallowing. “It’s just hard - when I haven’t totally processed what we lost yet. After everything… I got depressed over the summer.”

Moira was aware that her daughter-in-law was withdrawing, but not aware that it was depression ailing her. "I'm sorry. I - I didn't know." She suddenly feels ashamed for not spotting it before.

“Oliver was the only person who really knew. I hid it from everybody else. Everything was just... so loud. I felt like everybody else was moving on while I was stuck in first gear. I plastered on a smile, tried to act upbeat, rode from day to day on my anti-depressants, lived from week to week to attend therapy."

That sounds awful. Her throat thick, Moira says quietly, "I had no idea it was that bad. I wish I could have helped you."

"You couldn't have. I didn't want help. I wasn't ready to accept any. In the end, though, it was Oliver who kept me on my feet. He made sure the darkness didn't consume me." The look that the two of them share from across the room is loaded, and Moira suddenly feels like she's intruding on a private moment. Heaving a sigh, Felicity confesses, "I know it’s still possible for me to get pregnant while paralyzed, but I’m just - I’m not ready yet.”

"That's understandable," Moira nods slowly. "Felicity, I'm serious when I say... if you ever need my help or support through a period of depression like that again, please know that you can come to me. I won't ask questions or press you to talk. Even if you don't want help or feel like you don't deserve it... I just want to be there for you."

"Thank you, Moira. That means a lot." Changing the subject, and forcing a brighter tone, Felicity turns to her husband and asks, “Is dinner ready, Oliver?”

“Yep, we can all move to the table.”

Moira waits until Felicity has transferred herself from the couch into her wheelchair before following behind her to the dining table. Evelyn, who has been remaining silent throughout their conversation, starts rambling enthusiastically about how crunchy Oliver’s fried butterflied chicken is. Oliver serves all their plates out and pours drinks for them all. He and Evelyn have a very father-daughter-esque mini argument over whether or not she can have a beer along with him over dinner. He finally agrees, compromising and saying that she can have a shandy instead. Felicity teases him about how Evelyn has him wrapped around her little finger, and Evelyn jokes that for a vigilante superhero, he’s whipped as hell by his wife.

Moira grins as she observes the small family banter over their meal. Because that’s what they are: a family. They might be missing William physically, but emotionally he’s still with them. Moira is honored to be a part of it.

(Felicity is not pregnant, and probably won’t be for a while. That doesn’t matter though. She’s not ready, but she used the word ‘yet’. Moira is hopeful.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: Struggles (S6)**


	5. Struggles (S6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> happy saturday! thank you once again for the continued support and i hope you enjoy this chapter xx
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

Moira is confused and slightly concerned when Felicity texts her asking if she can come around to the mansion for lunch.

Felicity should be busy at work with Curtis at Smoak Tech; they’ve recently managed to get the biostimulant chip that they have now proven cures paralysis, with Felicity being the first recipient onto the medical market. They’ll be hosting a huge investor’s conference next week. As for the other members of the Smoak-Queen clan, Oliver is currently at City Hall with back-to-back budget meetings all day, and William and Evelyn are at school.

Felicity obviously wants to discuss something with Moira. She’s bewildered as to what, though. As far as Moira knows, the Smoak-Queens have been in an amazing place recently. They have partial custody of William, who has moved to Starling with his mother Samantha after Adrian Chase nearly killed them both on Lian Yu. Evelyn is in her last year of high school, getting ready to go to community college to study criminal psychology. Both Oliver and Felicity have secure jobs, are in an extremely secure and loving relationship, and are in a great financial situation. 

What exactly could Felicity need Moira’s advice or help with? She’s never going to turn her daughter-in-law away, though, so she tells Felicity that she’s always welcome and she would love to host her for lunch.

Then it hits her. Is it possible that Felicity is pregnant? And she’s going to tell Moira that? But she would have thought that her daughter-in-law would want to tell her with Oliver by her side.

Raisa helps her prepare an orange, fennel root and wild rice salad, and instead of setting the dining room table, they decide to set the kitchen’s smaller one instead, for a more intimate and less formal meal. When Felicity arrives, they engage in a little bit of small-talk for about half an hour while picking at their salads. It doesn’t take long, though, for a comfortable silence to fall between them and the younger woman to finally speak up about why she’s come.

“I can’t get pregnant,” Felicity admits quietly.

Moira blinks at her, bemused. That’s the opposite of what she thought Felicity was going to say. “What do you mean?”

Felicity exhales, slumping back in her chair and running her fingers through her hair. She suddenly looks exhausted. “Exactly that. I just can’t seem to get pregnant.”

Pushing her plate away, Moira adjusts her posture in her seat so she’s fully facing her daughter-in-law head-on, peering over the table at her seriously. “Okay. Please explain from the beginning.”

“You’re okay with me talking to you about this? It’s not too awkward?”

“Of course I’m okay with it, Felicity, I’m your mother-in-law. And you know I’m always here to offer an ear.”

Massaging the bridge of her nose, Felicity admits, “Oliver and I… we’ve been trying. For about, god… maybe five months now? I came off birth control, I’m taking prenatal vitamins and drinking fertility teas, I’m tracking my cycles and fertile windows. Oliver’s been taking vitamin C supplements which are meant to help. We’ve both stopped drinking, we’re eating as healthy as we possibly can.” She shrugs helplessly. “We don’t know what to do or what’s wrong. Oliver got me pregnant before without even trying, but now… no matter how hard we try, nothing.”

Well. Moira certainly had no idea this was something they would ever be discussing. But Felicity is putting her confidence in her and is asking for her advice, so it’s her duty to help her. “Have you spoken to Dr Schwartz?”

“Yes. I was worried that it was my scar tissue from the attack that was preventing me from conceiving but she checked with an ultrasound and told me there’s nothing she can see that would affect my ovulation and ability to carry a baby. Oliver is concerned that his physical trauma from his five years away and from being the Green Arrow has decreased his fertility. But considering we got pregnant back in 2015, even though that ended in a miscarriage, that shouldn’t be the issue. Dr Schwartz said that we should try for another month before being tested and thinking about drugs.” Felicity rubs her eyes tiredly. “I don’t know if we can cope with another month.”

“It’s possible that the stress of trying to conceive is making it more difficult for you,” Moira says gently.

“Dr Schwartz said that too.” Felicity plays with the arugula on her plate with the prongs of her fork, looking like a sad kicked puppy. “She advised us to ‘eliminate stress from our lives’. That’s impossible for us. Oliver and I can’t just take leave from work and step back from Team Arrow to try and get pregnant.”

“What about medication?” Moira questions.

Felicity shoots her a confused look. “I said before, Dr Schwartz said -”

“No, I mean the medication you and Oliver are currently on,” Moira cuts in.

She shakes her head. “We did research, the anti-depressants we’re on shouldn’t affect our fertility at all.”

“They might not affect your fertility, but if your biochemistry isn’t reacting well to the drugs, that can cause physical and chemical stress to your body,” Moira tells her. “So the anti-depressants could be indirectly decreasing your fertility. I know you’ve switched medication a couple of times because of bad reactions. Oliver told me your last pills were making you overly fatigued and sick, and triggering frequent migraines. How have you been coping on your new ones?”

Felicity goes quiet. She frowns down at the table, appearing to be lost in thought. “I’m still getting the fatigue and headaches, although not as badly as I was on the old meds,” she mumbles. “I should talk to Dr Schwartz about that.”

Flicking her concerned gaze over Felicity’s body, taking in her drawn expression, tensed shoulders, and anxious leg jigging, Moira decides that her son and daughter-in-law can absolutely not continue like this. “Felicity, how about I book a spa weekend for you and Oliver, starting Friday? Would you go for me?”

“I can’t,” is Felicity’s automatic response. “Samantha is away in Central looking after her mom after a medical scare, Raisa’s on a break, Dig’s looking after the twins because Lyla’s on mission, Thea and Tommy are away visiting Roy, I frankly don’t trust any of the recruits to babysit, especially Evelyn, since last time she spent the $30 we gave her to get take-out on icecream for her and Will - and anyway, I’m meant to be giving Evelyn a driving lesson, and William has baseball practice -”

“I can look after the kids,” Moira interrupts the ramble. She’s frankly impressed that her daughter-in-law didn’t need to pause to breathe. “Not that they really need looking after, given their ages, but I’ll make sure they’re fed and get where they need to go. _Please_ , Felicity, let me book the spa weekend. I feel like the two of you desperately need some relaxation. And I’m going to suggest that you take a break for the next week or two from trying. There is such a thing as sexual exhaustion and you’re both burning yourselves out, which is just stressing you out more.”

“But the city -”

“The city can survive three days without the Green Arrow and Overwatch.”

“Cayden James -”

“Has gone underground, as has his thug Diaz.” Moira tries not to laugh at the annoyed look on Felicity’s face as she shoots down every single one of her arguments. “The recruits can handle beating the streets for a few days without adult supervision. They can call you back if you are needed.”

“... You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Moira smiles proudly. “I’ll call and tell Oliver. All you have to do is get the kids packed so I can pick them up on Thursday night, and then be packed and ready yourself for a three-day vacation on Friday morning. I’ll arrange a car for you and everything.”

Felicity suddenly appears very emotional, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Moira.”

It doesn’t take very much effort at all to arrange the entire weekend, as Moira is friends with the owner of _Serenity Spa Hotel_ in the forest just bordering the Gem Cities’ National Park. When she informs her friend that her son and daughter-in-law are quite stressed and could really use some TLC, they inform her that they’ll sort out a huge private suite for them with a private hot-tub and book massages for them both, as well as a mani-pedi and facial for Felicity. Moira doesn’t divulge any private information but advises that they exclude alcohol and sauna trips from their plans for the couple.

On the Thursday night, Moira drives herself over to the Smoak-Queen family’s apartment to pick up the kids. Evelyn lugs a suitcase and a bag full of her textbooks into the trunk, while William has two smaller bags, one for his clothes and toiletries and the other for his electronic projects and baseball gear. Oliver and Felicity take their time saying goodbye to them, promising that they’ll be available by cell phone all weekend if they need them.

“Thank you so much for arranging this for us, Mom,” Oliver says, hugging her and sounding worn-out. He needs this break. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

“Please just promise me you are going to relax and properly enjoy this weekend,” she pleads, cupping his cheeks. “Don’t worry about anything happening back here, don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet - just focus on you and Felicity.”

“We’ll try,” he whispers.

She kisses him on the forehead and then goes to embrace Felicity, who just buries her head in Moira’s shoulder. No words need to be said. When Moira heads back down to the car with the kids traipsing behind her, she can tell that they’re not all that excited to be leaving their home and staying at the mansion at the weekend, all of their plans dashed. What they don’t know is that Moira knows those plans and is determined not to let them fall through.

“I asked Oliver and Felicity not to give you dinner, so have you eaten this evening yet?” Moira asks, as Evelyn and William hop into the back of the car.

“No,” William shakes his head. “They just asked us to finish our homework and be ready to go by 6pm.” A fearful expression falls over his face. “We’re not going to some fancy restaurant or something, are we? Dad didn’t say anything about that. I didn’t pack my suit.”

“I only brought sweatpants,” Evelyn panics.

“I was actually thinking of Big Belly Burger drive-through,” Moira replies, smirking.

William’s jaw drops in shock. “Really!?”

“I heard Oliver doesn’t let you get the concrete milkshakes because, in his words, ‘they’re just liquid sugar’. How about we get the greasiest, most sugary meals we can possibly buy and then not tell Oliver anything?”

Both William and Evelyn look taken back, but delighted at that idea. When they arrive at the mansion with paper bags full of burgers, chicken, fries, and milkshakes, Moira lays out blankets on the living room floor so they can have a picnic while watching _Parcs and Rec_ on the TV. It’s clear that the kids never expected to do this with her and they’re astonished that Moira is the one encouraging them to splay out, eat junk food, and consume sitcoms, instead of studying. 

She hasn’t spent much time with the kids by herself before, as Oliver and Felicity have always been present, and she’s beginning to realize that she’s seeing a different side of them. While William is a sweet, polite boy, he’s also quite mischievous and funny, joking and teasing Evelyn, who he clearly sees as his older sister. Evelyn, meanwhile, always comes across as an energetic, sassy teenager, who Moira sees now has a more sensitive side to her, as she appears to enjoy the quiet moments just as much as others. 

“Are Dad and Felicity going on a sex vacation?” William suddenly asks.

Evelyn whacks him. “Will, don’t call it that!” she hisses.

“That’s what _you’ve_ been calling it,” he retorts. He turns back to Moira, not backing down. “Well? Are they? We know they’re trying to get pregnant.”

Moira’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “How do you know that?”

“I accidentally walked in on Dad listening to a podcast on the best sex positions for conception last month,” William complains with a disgusted shudder. “And he’s left books on fertilization and pregnancy in the living room before.”

“Your bedroom doesn’t share a wall with theirs,” Evelyn mutters. “They’re at it like rabbits every night. And I can tell that even though our walls are meant to be soundproofed.”

“Oh.” Well… this is awkward. Moira doesn’t know if she should be having this conversation with them, but they’re both staring at her now, expecting answers. “Your parents aren’t on a sex vacation, as you called it, William. In fact, it’s the opposite. You’re right that Oliver and Felicity are attempting to conceive right now, although I don’t think I should get into that, as that’s personal. But they’ve been wearing themselves out lately and I thought that a relaxing spa weekend would help them physically and mentally recover.”

“That’s nice of you,” William eventually says. “You’re right, they’ve been really tired. They could use a break from everything. Thank you for helping them realize that.” He pauses and then adds, “I’d love a little brother or sister but I didn’t like seeing them all stressed out.”

“I actually thought Felicity _was_ pregnant, because of the way she was tired and irritable all the time,” Evelyn muses. “Do you think it’s gonna happen for them?”

“I hope so,” Moira responds honestly.

The two of them nod, agreeing. “We’ll be your spies if you want,” William says out of the blue. “Keep you updated on whether or not we see Felicity having pregnancy symptoms. We can call it Operation Stork or something.”

“Because storks deliver babies in European folklore,” Evelyn lights up. “Will, that’s _perfect_.”

(Felicity isn’t pregnant yet, despite trying. But they’re going to keep trying, and Moira… well, she’s waited this long. Moira is patient.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: Wishful Thinking (between S6-S7)**


	6. Wishful Thinking (between S6-S7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> happy sundayyyyy. here we are, the last of the six parts before the +1!!! thank you for all your appreciation and support so far - hope you enjoy this chapter x
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

“Are you pregnant?”

“No,” Felicity says, not even looking up from the Smoak Tech documents she’s pouring over.

Moira sits at the other end of the Queen mansion library, watching over the top of her romance novel as Felicity and her grandchild interact. William, sitting across the table from Felicity with his elbows up and head resting on his hand, pokes at her propped-up tablet, threatening to tip it over. He’s meant to be planning for his upcoming science project. The two of them, Samatha and Evelyn have moved into the Queen mansion since Oliver went undercover with the FBI in Slabside Penitentiary.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Will.”

“Are you _really_ sure?” he presses. “Because you got sick this morning _and_ you suddenly can’t stand bananas.”

“It’s just stress, Will, and a bad reaction to those antibiotics Dr Schwartz gave me,” Felicity replies with a sigh. It’s only been a month and already the pain of being separated from her husband is draining her. Moira can see it the strain on her daughter-in-law’s face. “I’m not pregnant, I promise.”

“... What about the hating bananas thing?”

Felicity finally lifts her gaze from her document, quirking an eyebrow. “Your next biology assignment will be to look up the gustatory system in your textbooks and write me an essay on the physiology of taste and how it changes over time.”

“That sounds like you trying to come up with an excuse.”

“I just don’t like bananas anymore, Will. It’s as simple as that.”

William crosses his arms stubbornly. “Why are you avoiding drinking coffee and wine?”

“Dr Schwartz advised me to cut coffee and alcohol from my diet while on the antibiotics.”

“But you were avoiding them _before_ the antibiotics.”

Felicity looks amused by his perseverance. “Because I haven’t been drinking coffee or wine since last fall, because of how Oliver and I were trying to conceive. Don’t grimace like that, _you_ started this conversation. Black tea is better than coffee. I still am drinking some, by the way, just decaf. I was addicted to caffeine before and relying on it too much to get through the day.”

William eyes her like she’s grown a second head. “You’ve turned into a health nut like Dad,” he mutters.

“I’ve been married to him for over three years now, and Oliver is basically a home masterchef, so his habits have rubbed off on me.”

Moira peers up from her book hearing that, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Did Felicity say three years? “You mean two and a half,” she says slowly.

“Right.” Felicity smiles at her, but there’s a glint of panic in her eyes. As if she’s been caught in a lie.

Moira does the math in her head. Three years… that would mean that Oliver and Felicity actually got married in April 2015, six months before their wedding. Moira thinks she would have noticed if they got secretly married in April, unless… unless they got married in Nanda Parbat. Hmm. She’s definitely going to have to look into that.

“But - that still doesn’t explain the sickness in the mornings,” William points out.

“That’s the antibiotics.”

William casts a glance over to Moira, raising an eyebrow. She shrugs. Both she, William and Evelyn have had their suspicions over the last week that Felicity’s ‘stress’ is actually pregnancy, but she won’t listen to them. Given that she and Oliver spent six months trying to get pregnant overall, before ultimately deciding they would stop actively trying and let nature take its course in April, she seems very reluctant to take a test.

Even Evelyn has mentioned that Felicity should probably and might want to take a test, just in case. The girl is training with Diggle at the bunker currently, but would most likely be joining Will in his badgering if she were here. The three of them reckon she’s ignoring the possibility of being pregnant because she doesn’t want to entertain the idea while Oliver isn’t present.

They are all fully aware of what a difficult time Oliver is having in prison. Samanda Watson, Oliver’s FBI coordinator, gives them a report every week on how his mission is going as he tries to weed out Ricardo Diaz’s network. Team Arrow managed to take down Cayden James in May, serving him up on a silver platter for the FBI to arrest; they failed to realize, however, that James’ thug, Diaz, who was incarcerated earlier in the year, was building a criminal network within Slabside. The FBI requested Oliver’s help to shut it down. This was in exchange for erasing all the evidence James had gathered to expose the identities of the Team Arrow members and giving all of them immunity. The entire plan hinged on Oliver being outed as the Green Arrow though.

Moira remembers the day where Oliver gathered them in his apartment and explained the FBI’s offer and plan. Felicity was distraught. It had struck Moira in the heart when her son had turned to his wife and asked _permission_ to do this, understanding that it was a huge risk that would put her and the kids in danger. Moira doesn’t know if she would have acquiesced if she were in Felicity’s position, but that just demonstrates how courageous and strong her daughter-in-law is. 

With Samantha, it didn’t take much convincing on Oliver’s part to get her to agree to move in with William to the Queen mansion, to ensure their son’s safety. Samantha still has a full-time job in Starling, and moving in with Moira, Tommy, Thea, and Roy so they can have Team Arrow members and a security team watching over them, means that she doesn’t have to uproot her and Will’s lives to go into hiding again - it also means that William is going to be effectively home-schooled by Felicity and a couple of other online tutors, rather than him being forced to join a new school.

“I think you’re pregnant,” William interrupts Moira’s thoughts, in a sing-song voice.

“I think I’m not,” Felicity counters, echoing the melody. “I do not see science project work going on there, mister.”

“I’ve written some stuff down.”

“Am I going to have to limit your PS4 game time again?”

Will scowls. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would. Your mom gave me permission.”

Her grandson groans and turns to Moira with a pleading expression. “Grandma, tell her,” he insists. “Tell Mom she’s pregnant and she should take a test.”

“I’m not taking a test.”

“You _should!_ Grandma, tell her!”

Moira marks the page of her book and closes it carefully on her lap. “Half a decade of knowing Felicity has shown me that I can’t tell her to do anything. She’s an independent woman with an IQ of 170 -”

“170 was when I was in MIT, the last time I checked it was 195,” Felicity cuts in sweetly.

“And if she doesn’t think she is pregnant,” Moira stares pointedly at her, “ _Despite evidence suggesting otherwise_ , then I think we should believe her, Will.” It’s a challenge. One she knows that Felicity will not back down from.

“So you want me to take a pregnancy test and then show you it’s negative, to prove it?” Felicity asks in an incredulous tone.

“That would be perfect, yes,” William deadpans.

“Okay, this might be TMI, but at this point, I don’t care,” Felicity says, rolling her eyes. “I had my period the week after Oliver left. So _not pregnant_ , okay?”

“How do we know you’re not lying?”

“What reason would I have to lie? You know your dad and I have been wanting a baby for the last year. I don’t think I would try and hide it if I was pregnant.”

William huffs unhappily. “Well, you could have said that in the first place.”

“Forgive me for thinking that my fourteen-year-old stepson might not want to know the specific details of my menstrual cycles.”

“Hey kiddos, what’s cracka-lackin’?” Tommy quips, strolling into the library with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a smart blue suit but his dark hair is as wild as ever, his beard slightly longer than usual.

“One, never say that again,” Felicity replies. “Two, aren’t you meant to be with Quentin right now at City Hall, Mr Personal Bodyguard?”

“Eh, Mr Mayor’s stuck in a conference all day and Thea’s with him, he’ll be fine,” Tommy shrugs. “What’s this I’m hearing about your menstrual cycles? Are you pregnant? Are we on an Olicity Baby Watch again? I haven’t heard any reports from Operation Stork for a while. Is Felicity still in denial that her throwing up in the mornings is morning sickness?”

“You’re lucky you’re one of my best friends and I promised Oliver not to strangle you while he’s undercover,” Felicity threatens. “I’m not pregnant, I’ve had my period recently, you all need to stop being so obsessed with my uterus, please!”

Tommy collapses down on the couch next to Moira with a heavy sigh, making her chuckle. “So what are we up to, beyond ‘obsessing over Felicity’s uterus’, as she so claims?”

“William is trying to figure out what to do for the science project Felicity has asked him to complete,” Moira informs him, patting his leg.

“Cool. What ideas have you got so far, kid?” Tommy asks curiously.

William consults his notes. “I’ve narrowed it down to the archer’s paradox, examining the flammability of various liquids and chemicals, or trying to build a machine that is close to achieving perpetual motion.”

“You are not starting any fires!” Felicity says, alarmed.

Tommy joins William and the two of them start brainstorming more science project ideas. Eyeing Felicity carefully, Moira moves across the library to slide into the chair next to her daughter-in-law. She’s remembering the conversation that she, Oliver and Felicity had almost a year and a half ago, where Felicity confessed that she was depressed after the miscarriage and feeling pressured to have a baby when she wasn’t ready yet. Is she feeling a similar way now? Yes, Felicity has been trying to get pregnant over the last year, but she and Oliver really struggled. She might be feeling bitter about that, especially as everybody has been thinking she’s pregnant when she’s not.

“You okay?” Moira asks quietly.

Felicity seems to sense what she’s asking without asking, glancing up from her paperwork to smile dryly. “I’m fine, Moira, I promise. It is a little annoying to have everybody insisting I’m pregnant but I understand why they would be thinking that. Oliver’s not going to be in prison forever, and we’re hoping to start trying again when he comes home. Hopefully things will go a little more smoothly next time, now we know it was intolerances to our old medication that was making things difficult.”

She lays a hand on top of her daughter-in-law’s. “I know you have to be worried about him.”

“Well, yeah, he’s undercover in a jail full of criminals that he put there, who have it out for him.” Felicity curls her fingers over Moira’s, pushing her documents out of the way so she can rest her arms on the tabletop. “The updates from the FBI help with the anxiety, as does knowing that Oliver can handle himself, but I’m still concerned.” She pauses and then admits, “I’m honestly kind of relieved I’m not pregnant right now. It would be terrible to be pregnant without Oliver here.”

Moira nods. “You know we would support you if that were the case, right?”

“I know,” Felicity smiles at her. “You’re my family. The kids and I are lucky to have you.”

Tommy raises his voice, calling out, “Felicity, what’s your opinion on William hacking -”

“Okay, no fires and _nothing illegal!_ ” she shouts.

“Spoilsport,” William laughs.

The library doors open once again, this time revealing Diggle, who is carrying his two twin toddlers over his giant shoulders in fireman’s carries while they giggle furiously. It’s an adorable sight. “What did I just hear about fires and illegal activities?”

He drops the twins down to the floor so they can scuttle up to William, who the three-year-olds have latched onto as the fun person in the room. William immediately stands so he can scoop Sara up onto his shoulders. She shrieks happily and grasps his hair as the teenager then swings JJ around. Seeing William being so playful and brotherly warms Moira's heart. In the future, if he ever does get to have a baby sibling, William is going to be an incredible big brother.

“Nothing,” Felicity replies, shooting Tommy and Will pointed stares, while they just smile back innocently at her. “Because nobody is planning on doing anything like that. Can you please step into your title as the good influence uncle to cancel out Tommy’s bad influence uncle energy?”

Tommy looks affronted. “I’m not a bad influence!”

“William got suspended from school for four days last month because he punched Elijah Wickenham in the face,” Moira reminds him.

“Yeah, because that punk was bullying him about Oliver being in prison,” Tommy huffs. “Oliver’s de-escalation method wasn’t working, and the kid was an asshole!”

“And that means he deserved a right hook to the jaw?” Diggle raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it? William, has Elijah bothered you since?”

William hesitates and then shakes his head, shrugging apologetically when Felicity frowns at him disapprovingly. Moira has to laugh at the appalled expression on her daughter-in-law’s face - it’s exactly the same expression she used to get when Tommy and Oliver used to get up to their crazy teenage antics.

Tommy rolls his eyes dramatically. “Honestly, you turn the subject _away_ from the woman’s uterus she accuses you of being obsessed with, and this is how you’re treated for teaching her kid to defend himself.”

“Oh, are you pregnant?” Diggle asks Felicity excitedly.

She groans and drops her head down onto the counter with a thump.

(Felicity is not pregnant yet. Oliver is undercover in prison. They don’t know when his mission will end. Moira is trying to remain optimistic.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx
> 
> **next part: +1 Bittersweet Celebrations (S7)**


	7. +1 Bittersweet Celebrations (S7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)
> 
> thank you all SO MUCH for being so supportive while I've been posting this fic, guys. i cannot tell you how appreciative i am. i've absolutely adored writing moira's interactions and relationships with felicity, oliver, william, evelyn and others. i really hope you enjoy this last part... the +1. what all of you and moira have been waiting for.
> 
> _TRIGGER WARNINGS: throughout this fic there will be discussions and descriptions of anxiety, depression, traumatic injuries, miscarriage, difficulties getting pregnant_

When Oliver calls Moira and asks her to come over in the early evening on a Tuesday because ‘they need to talk about something’, her first reaction is to be absolutely ecstatic. Because her first assumption is that her son is inviting her around so he and her daughter-in-law can tell that she is going to have a new grandchild soon. When she arrives at their apartment, however, buzzing with excitement, her enthusiasm is quickly quelled by the somber, grave expressions on their faces.

“What’s going on?” she asks nervously. “Is everything all right?”

There’s a tense beat of silence. “I think you should sit down,” Oliver advises softly.

Her heart immediately begins pounding in her chest. “You’re scaring me.”

“Please, Moira,” Felicity replies, her voice verging on pleading.

She sits in the armchair. Oliver and Felicity give her a glass of water and a box of tissues, and then take seats opposite her on the couch. And Oliver starts to talk.

He tells her about the evil organization that Team Arrow has currently been fighting. The Ninth Circle is an international white supremacist terrorist group dating back to the 14th century that has funded corrupt politicians and governments since its beginning. They gave money to the Nazi regime and aided Stalin in becoming a Russian dictator. And in 1941, Robert Queen’s father, Oliver’s grandfather, was instated the leader of the Ninth Circle. They discovered that the organization is devoted to passing leadership down to males of pure bloodlines, and that the Queens have been involved since as early as the 18th century. 

Moira is shaken. Felicity informs her grimly that it gets worse.

Robert’s father died in 2006 - a year before the Queen Gambit’s sinking. He should have inherited the leadership of the Ninth Circle but died before he could be appointed. By their traditions, Oliver should and is the heir to the Ninth Circle, but by fighting crime and corruption as the Green Arrow, he’s become their enemy. They instead accepted Emiko Adachi, a child of Robert’s born from an affair, as their interim leader; unconventional, considering she is female, and not considered the true heir due to being illegitimate.

Moira knows about Emiko, of course - she’s emerged back onto the scene in fall last year, first posing as the Green Arrow while Oliver was undercover in prison, and then beginning to work with Team Arrow when he was released and her identity was exposed. Robert apparently tried to financially support Emiko’s family after he abandoned them by sending them child support funds, but after the Gambit’s sinking and Robert died, a legal loophole meant that no child support ended up being provided after that.

The woman forgave Moira for her past frosty attitudes, claiming she understood that Moira was going to be hostile towards her husband’s mistress and secret family. Oliver’s half-sister has even joined them for Queen family dinners since. To discover that Emiko has actually been working for and leading a terrorist organization the entire time… it’s a betrayal of the highest order.

Now, the Ninth Circle are searching for Emiko’s replacement - a true heir, a child, somebody they can indoctrinate with their ideals and raise into the position. They are attempting to destroy Starling City to target the Smoak-Queen family.

“Evelyn isn’t of Queen blood. They’re after William,” Moira realizes in horror. 

Oliver and Felicity exchange serious looks. “Actually, they’re not after Will,” Oliver says. “According to Emiko, because I fathered him before I was married, he’s considered an illegitimate heir. We have arranged personal security for him and Samantha, though, just in case.”

Moira frowns, bewildered. “Then who are they after?”

“Felicity,” Oliver sighs, draping an arm protectively over his wife’s shoulders. Felicity is pale, staring at the floor and wringing her hands anxiously. “They’re after Felicity.”

“But why -” Moira starts, not understanding. But then it hits her. Strikes at her like a lethal sucker-punch to her gut, winding her. It’s the news she’s wanted to hear for the last four years, delivered in the worst way possible. She expected to be elated and happy beyond all belief, hearing this for the first time. Instead, dread and shock wash over her like a tidal wave. “You’re pregnant.”

Felicity smiles sadly. She stands and turns, resting one of her shaking hands over her lower abdomen, lifting up her shirt. There’s a little but prominent bump there, that’s been hiding underneath her daughter-in-law’s flowy blouse the entire time. “We haven’t told anybody but Diggle. I knew you’d figure it out. I’m nine weeks. We had the first ultrasound last week - somehow or another, Emiko found out about it and the Ninth Circle tried to kidnap me the next day. They failed, but…”

“It’s likely they’re going to try again,” Moira finishes. “Because the baby you’re carrying _would_ be considered a true heir.”

“Yes,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, Moira. I wish we could have told you under better circumstances. Honestly, Oliver and I aren’t planning on telling anybody else at all. If we manage to beat the Ninth Circle, we think we’re going to hang up our hoods and move out of the city, to live somewhere safe to raise the kids… for as long as we can.”

“What do you mean, for as long as you can?” Moira repeats uneasily.

“Mom…” Oliver reaches across the short space between them so he can grasp her hands between his own. His gaze is earnest but tired. “In 2024, an event known as the Crisis is going to occur. It’s going to place the entirety of the multiverse in jeopardy. Before Christmas, an entity known as the Monitor came here to test superheroes in an effort to find soldiers to battle in the Crisis and fight the end of the multiverse. His test threatened to kill Barry and Kara. I knew and know that we aren’t going to survive this Crisis without the Flash and Supergirl fighting for us. I made a deal with the Monitor. Their lives… for mine.”

Tears streaming down Moira’s face, she chokes out, “Oh, Oliver.” Her son, sacrificing _himself_ for two superheroes who have never believed in him or treated him like a true hero… she hates that it’s why she loves him so much. She can see that Felicity is crying as well, albeit silently. She knows this information already, Moira realizes. Felicity found out that she is going to lose her husband and then found out she is pregnant with their child. That must have been devastating. She dreads asking, but she has to. “How… how much time do you have?”

“He’s not taking my life in the literal sense, Mom,” Oliver explains quietly. “He’s not killing me. When the time comes, before the Crisis arrives, the Monitor will call me to his service and I will become his General. I am going to be the hero who recruits and leads the other superheroes of the other Earths. Fives years is roughly the time I have, I’m guessing, to spend with my family and sort out my affairs.”

“No, that’s not fair,” Moira protests with a heartfelt sob. Her baby boy is going to have to leave his wife and children to fight a war raging across the _universe_!? “Why does it have to be _you?_ Why can’t one of the other heroes step up to the plate for once!?”

“Let’s be honest, Moira,” Felicity says, sounding incredibly bitter. “None of them are selfless enough to do that. It has to be Oliver because he’s the only person with a pure and true heart. He’s the only one strong enough to lead them.”

Moira’s heart clenches painfully. “But your children...” she says pathetically. “The baby…”

“All I can do is pray and hope I’ll survive the Crisis to come home to them and Felicity,” Oliver drops his head into his hands, looking as if the whole weight of the world is on his shoulders. And Moira realizes… it is. And not just their world, but all the others as well. “If I don’t, I need you to _promise_ me, Mom, that you’re going to look after my family for me.”

“Of course I will, Oliver. You don’t even have to ask,” she replies fiercely. “But what if you don’t beat the Ninth Circle and it’s not safe for Felicity and the children to live in the city?”

“Then our plan to move off the grid until the Crisis will become a permanent living situation,” Oliver says simply. “We’ll be leaving Starling for good. And if I don’t survive the Crisis, if I’m not alive to keep them safe, then… I’m going to need you and John, as the only people who know about the baby, to support Felicity and the kids. I know I can trust you to do that.”

Moira thinks she might be a state of shock, trying to process all of this utterly overwhelming information. Her entire body feels cold and stiff. On one hand, she feels privileged to have been trusted by her son and daughter-in-law with this information, but on the other, it’s a massive responsibility - one she will gladly and proudly accept - that she will have to hide from the others. “You’re not going to tell anybody else?”

“In time, if we think it’s safe enough, we can tell Thea, Tommy, and Roy… I’m sure they’ll love having another niece or nephew to spoil,” Felicity responds wistfully. “We’re trying to figure out if there’s a way we can tell my mom and Quentin, but as he’s the mayor and she’s his wife, they’re too high profile and are constantly watched by the media. Oliver and I have talked between us and with Evelyn and William, and we think that for now, and for the foreseeable future, it’s best that the baby is kept secret.”

Moira hates that. Oliver and Felicity having a baby is something that should be celebrated, considering all the trials and tribulations it’s taken for them to get here. They’ve suffered and struggled so much, and this is something amazing and incredible for them, as they’re bringing a new life into the world. But they never, _ever_ get to be in peace. They’re always in danger, always having to watch their backs.

They’ve saved millions of lives over the past seven and a half years and become true heroes. They never get to rest. There is no such thing as a happily ever after for them. It’s just so incredibly cruel and unfair.

“Hey, hey.” She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Felicity moves to kneel down in front of her, her lips ticking up into a painfully rueful smile. One of the blonde’s hands rests over her small baby bump while the other entwines with Moira’s fingers, gripping them tightly. “It’s okay. I know it’s upsetting, Moira, but Oliver and I never expected to have a normal life. We can wish for circumstances to be different, but that negates everything that we’ve gone through to get here in the first place. All we can do is plan for the worst, and focus on the positives.”

Oliver stands to rest a comforting hand on Moira’s shoulder. “Felicity and I are going to prepare the best we can, for the Ninth Circle and for the Crisis. We’re going to continue to fight to try and take Emiko and the whole organization down. ARGUS, the FBI, Homeland Security, the CIA, and the NSA are on our side. With the Crisis, there’s nothing we can really do except ensure everybody is kept on the alert.”

“How are you not terrified?” Moira whispers, aiming the question at her daughter-in-law. “Of losing Oliver, of losing your baby - of losing _everything?_ ”

“Because if I’m too busy being scared of the future, then there’s not enough time for me to enjoy the present,” Felicity replies softly, wiping away her tears with the soft pad of her thumb. “When there’s a countdown on the time you have with somebody, and danger around every turn that threatens to tear your family apart, and you have _no control_ over that - you can’t afford to waste a single second when it comes to the ones you love.” She curls her fingers tighter around Moira’s hand and tugs it gently, until she’s resting it over her belly, her shirt ridden up slightly. It’s smooth, warm, and a little hard to the touch. A tiny Oliver and Felicity hybrid is growing inside her right there, her _grandchild_ , and Moira knows her palm is only a couple of inches away from them. “Including the ones who aren’t with us yet.”

Moira’s eyes flicker up from Felicity’s abdomen to her face, which is set in a calm and contemplative expression. “It feels wrong to say this after everything you’ve just told me on top of revealing you’re pregnant, but congratulations,” she says honestly. “I am… both afraid and delighted for you at the same time, which are two very conflicting emotions to deal with. I know how much and how long you and Oliver have wanted this.”

Felicity’s grin is genuine this time. “Would you believe me if I told you that we managed to conceive on our wedding anniversary, only a week after Oliver got out of prison?”

“You mean your public wedding anniversary,” Moira corrects her, not being able to resist.

Oliver’s eyes widen. “You know?” he breathes. “How did you find out?”

“Felicity made a slip in the summer, about how long you’d been married before. I did the math and worked out that it would put your actual wedding date in April, approximately when you went to Nanda Parbat.” Moira helps Felicity back into a standing position from where she’s kneeling on the floor, which she receives a grateful look for. “Also, Nyssa is surprisingly terrible at keeping secrets. When she was here last month for Christmas, I pressed her until she admitted that you had a secret ceremony that she officiated. I’m rather pleased you didn’t tell anybody, actually, as it allowed us to hold the wedding in December that was official and legal.”

Startled by her comment, Oliver admits, “I thought you would be mad at us.”

“We want to run something past you, actually, Moira,” Felicity says, changing the subject. She suddenly looks nervous again.

“All right,” Moira furrows her brow.

She reaches out to Oliver, who takes her hand. “We’ve been talking baby names,” she continues shyly. “We think we’ve picked them out, one for a boy and one for a girl.”

Intrigued and excited to hear this, Moira nods and prompts, “Go on.”

Oliver pulls his wife in close to his side, bracing his arm against her lower back. “For a boy, we were thinking Lucas Robert Smoak-Queen.”

“Oh.” Moira tears up again. She’s glad they gave her that box of tissues now, because she grabs one to dab at her eyes. “Your father would love that, Oliver.”

“We thought so too,” Felicity agrees. “It’s not _that_ name we’re a little nervous about your reaction to, though. For a girl… we were thinking Mia Emily Smoak-Queen.”

Mia. Short for Moira. And Emily, after Moira’s mother. Her tears spill over. “You want to name your daughter after me?”

“You’ve done so much for us over the past six years since we became a couple, and even though you had your initial reservations concerning me, you quickly accepted me as part of your family. You’ve always been supportive and welcoming,” Felicity explains, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m never going to forget how incredibly kind and sympathetic and comforting you were when I had the pregnancy scare and then the miscarriage back in 2015. And when we were struggling to conceive last year, you gave us advice and helped us, while making sure Evelyn and William were cared for and we were taking care of ourselves through the stress of it all. We… we owe you so much, Moira. _I_ owe you so much. We would love to name our daughter after you, with your blessing.”

“What did I do, to end up with as wonderful a son and daughter-in-law as you two?” Moira whispers, embracing them both. “I would be _honored_.”

(Felicity is pregnant. The world is as dangerous as ever. Emiko joins their side. With her help, they defeat the Ninth Circle.

They move to Bloomfield, in a redwood forest cabin, in May. Samantha moves with them. William is homeschooled while Evelyn attends a summer community college a couple of towns away, living on campus in an apartment and coming home every couple of weekends.

Oliver and Felicity’s daughter is born in August. Healthy, adorable, feisty. She’s the cutest baby Moira has ever seen (despite having powerful lungs that can scream the house down) and she cries when she gets to hold her granddaughter for the first time. Oliver and Felicity name her Mia.

The archer leaves to fight in the Crisis four months after her birth. The Crisis is coming early; speedsters have been meddling with time, and as an unforeseen consequence they have altered the course of events. Before he goes, the Monitor tells him that he is destined to die. Oliver marches off to fight a battle for the survival of all worlds, knowing he isn’t going to survive, but determined to ensure the safety of his family.

Oliver dies saving the multiverse by creating a new one, after becoming a powerful celestial entity called the Spectre. Mia from the future, Oliver and Felicity’s beautiful grown-up daughter who has become the Green Arrow, taking on her father’s legacy, attends his funeral with the rest of them.

A month later, Moira is cooking lunch for her daughter-in-law and three grandchildren in their cabin in Bloomfield when there’s an explosion of white light on the porch. Out of the brightness steps her son, in green robes and a cape. He looks the most peaceful and exhilarated Moira has ever seen him in his life. He radiates power, the stars and galaxies of the universe shining in his eyes.

Felicity breaks down as she sprints out of the house and flings herself into his arms. Oliver spins her around once with a gleeful laugh before kissing her desperately. It’s a kiss that embodies years of pain and suffering and torment finally coming to an end, the two of them finally free to be happy. The kids race after their mother, throwing themselves on top of the embracing couple and tackling Oliver to the ground so they can hug him too, crying that they thought he was dead and never coming back.

Moira follows at a more sedated pace with Mia in her arms, mostly because she feels as if she’s in shock, scarcely believing this is happening. When Mia releases a sharp wail, reaching out not for her mother, but for her _father_ , Moira allows a sob to burst from her chest as Oliver takes the baby from her. Mia squeals joyfully and rubs her tiny hands over his stubble. He cradles Mia gently, using that stupid green cape as a blanket, and rocks her from side to side while whispering that he’s never leaving her again.

Oliver has come home. To Felicity, to Evelyn, to William, to Mia. To his wife and children, to his loving family.

Her beautiful boy is home.

Moira is content.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again guys, for the final time, thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed the fic overall! i would really appreciate it if you left kudos and commented xx

**Author's Note:**

> [Black lives matter. Please do whatever you can to help the movement in the effort to end systemic racism and police brutality against Black people across the world, whether that be by protesting, donating, signing petitions, sharing information and/or spreading the word.](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)


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